You Are In Love (True Love)
by Comeswithaprice97
Summary: Based off of Taylor Swift's song "You Are In Love". It's the same every year, the dull, vapid, and terribly uninteresting conversation with the few colleagues who aren't interested in spending the party getting drunk. However, tonight might prove to be different for Emma Swan, considering there's a dashing, blue eyed Englishman involved. AU. Captainswan.


**Author's Note: Hey guys, Happy New Year! Tried to post this when it was still 2014, but my evil iPad refused. Well, it's 2014 if you live in California, so hell yeah! Haha. I've wanted to post this little bit for a while, and it'll probably be about five or six chapters, so I hope you enjoy. And, you know the musical inspiration already. *winks* Happy Holidays.**

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to any characters from Once Upon A Time, nor do I won any rights to any references or song lyrics that may appear in this story.**

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><p><strong>You Are In Love (True Love)<strong>

**Chapter One: One Look, Dark Room**

She sighs heavily and looks down at the glass in front of her. It's full, but she's in no mood to drink it. She takes a look around the dark room she's currently residing in. Well, technically, that's not true. The bar is filled with Christmas decorations and strung with bright lights. Her firm had booked the whole place for their annual Christmas party, and, despite her usual fondness for the holiday season, she'd really rather not be here.

It's the same every year, the dull, vapid, and terribly uninteresting conversation with the few colleagues who aren't interested in spending the party getting drunk, and then, consequentially spending the night with another drunk and horny colleague. And, oh, if you could only imagine the awkwardness that Monday morning would entail between around sixty percent of the offices.

She usually tends to stray away from such..."entanglements", so to say.

Which, leads her to the conversation she is currently having with the terribly vapid, and, decidedly a bit creepy, paralegal from her firm. Louis Mirére, the Frenchman who moved here to New York a mere five years ago, has managed to give just about everyone at _Mills, Blanchard, and Nolan _law firm the heebie-jeebies. Just from the way he smiled.

Ugh.

And, now, Emma Swan, determined to not end up engaging in a drunken hookup later tonight, is stuck at a small table in a darkened corner of the room, with him.

Not that he's so frightening she'd fear he might kill her or anything, god no, but he's just really weird.

She really just wants to go home, but she has to stick it out here at least for another hour.

"And so, that's when I tell her-I tell her 'No, Chrissy, you can't play with the potato!'". He exclaims, throwing his arms in the air as he finishes telling the tale of his dog and the red potatoes he'd bought for his dinner. She smiles weakly, and finally, finally, he waves his goodbye at her and goes over to bother a more..."lenient" member of the firm, Ruby.

Rudy's her friend, and she doesn't want to be cruel, but it's known fact that the woman is a lover of men, in the worst way.

Or best way. Whichever floats your boat, she supposes.

And when she looks up from the drink she's swirling around in it's glass, that's when she notices it.

One look. From the man sitting across the room from her.

Later, she'll laugh at the irony of the entire situation, but right now it's all she can do to keep her breath from hitching in her throat, because, my god, Emma Swan does not swoon. She doesn't.

Especially not over incredibly handsome men with striking blue eyes that appear to have been staring at her for quite some time now, and oh god, it's happening again.

She needs to go home _now_.

She tears her eyes away from the man who seems to have captured her attention so entirely to check her watch. It's only nine thirty.

She sighs.

She has to stay for at least another forty five minutes.

Damn.

She's so absorbed in her own thoughts that she's completely taken aback when someone slides into the seat across from her.

For a moment she thinks it's the blue-eyed man who seems to be haunting her thoughts now, but instead, she looks up to find another pair of much more familiar blue eyes looking at her.

"You know that that man has been staring at you for the past hour." Belle French tells her, eyes wide in a suggestive manner. At Emma's pointed look, Belle replies, "Well, maybe not an hour, but you know what I mean!"

She rolls her eyes halfheartedly and lightly replies, "Belle, you know that I'm not here to hookup with anyone tonight." She tells her friend.

"I know that," Belle tells her, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

"So I don't care if some guy decides he wants to spend his night burning a hole in my head." Emma says. "He can do what he wants, I'm not gonna sleep with him."

"Emma, I don't think he just wants to sleep with you. And, yeah, he obviously wants to sleep with you, because, well, he's a man." Emma laughs at that. "But he's looking at you like he wants to know every little thing about you. All your secrets, what makes you laugh, everything about your past." At Emma's pointed gaze, her friend sighs exasperatedly and says, "Emma, I'm _serious_!", widening her eyes for effect.

"He just sounds creepy to me." Emma singsongs. "I'm leaving in about an hour anyway. I miss Charlie." She says wistfully.

Belle giggles at her, and Emma wonders just how many margaritas her petite friend has had that night. "Charlie will still be there when you get home, no matter the time!"

She downs the rest of the drink in the glass in her hand before she speaks. She shakes her head a bit as she swallows (damn, it was bitter), and looked at her friend who sat opposite her. "Well, who even is he anyway?" She asks, trying not to notice that said man is in fact staring at her, still, over Belle's shoulder.

It's weird. But it's also kind of iconic, because when do you ever get to say that your eyes met with someone else's across a crowded room in real life? Never.

Hell of a first meeting, if you ask her.

"I wasn't sure," Belle begins, slurring her words quite a bit, and leaving Emma to make a mental note that she finds her friend a safe taxi home tonight. "But I asked around, and then, finally, Ruby told me who he was."

Of course. Trust Ruby to know anything and everything about a handsome man within a ten mile radius.

"You _asked around_?" Emma screeches, causing quite a few heads to turn their way. She lowers her voice and continues. "Why would you do that? When did you even notice he was looking at me?"

"Well, I noticed about ten minutes ago, when it started!" Belle tells her, a silly grin on her face. She gulps down the margarita in front of her in one swallow. "And I asked about him because he noticed you. And he's pretty. And you should go out with him. And..." She whips her head from left to right and leans in close, as if she's about to tell Emma some big secret. "I think I'm drunk!" She exclaims.

'You think?', Emma thinks with slight snark.

Well, it _has_ been said she's prickly.

Oh, well.

"Belle, I'm going to the bar to get another drink, and then I'm going home. And you're coming with me." She tells her firmly. She stands up and proceeds to move towards the bar.

"But, Emma, I wanna stay!" Belle whines dramatically. God, the woman was such a petulant drunk.

"No, you're going home." Emma replies. "You don't have to go home with me, but you certainly have to go home. And you're not going home with any of these people, no way. Not in your condition."

"But are you gonna go home with the pretty guy?" Belle sing-songs with an enormous grin on her face.

"Belle, we really have to stop allowing you to drink at these things." Emma laughed as she began to walk away. She stopped as she passed Ruby's table, and made sure to ask her friend to keep an eye on Belle. She knew Ruby would, she was good like that.

Emma pushed her way past the crowd of her severely buzzed coworkers and finally made her way to the bar. She smiled at the bartender and ordered a rum (maybe she'd marathoned the first three Pirates of the Caribbean movies last night, but come on, those were the best ones and she's always had a thing for pirates and it's almost Christmas so let her order her rum in peace, people), then promptly took a seat on the stool before her as she waited.

She sensed movement to her left, and was about to ignore it, when all of a sudden a voice piped up, "Rum, huh?"

She turned as soon as the voice in question plopped down on the seat next to her. And, the voice in question just so happened to be the "pretty guy" Belle had been pestering her about. The one who'd been staring at her.

The one who was seriously and extremely hot.

She quirked an eyebrow at him (in amusement more than annoyance, but whatever) and he flashed her a grin in response.

"A bit pirate-like, but it's my choice of drink as well." He continued, grinning all the while. And his accent? _'Was he actually a pirate?'_ She thought incredulously. _'No, Emma. Get a fucking grip, you're obviously more drunk than you think you are.'_ "Though, I've yet to meet anyone here in New York who drinks it straight, like myself." He unabashedly looked her up and down, slid his tongue over his teeth, and gave her a brazen wink.

Seriously what the fuck?

"Much less a beautiful woman like yourself." He smirked at her. She shot him an unamused look in response, and was about to fire back when the bartender slid her drink over to her. She accepted it gratefully and took a sip, relishing in the burn of the amber-colored alcohol.

"I can just tell there's an anti-feministic insult there somewhere that I could fire back at you, but I'm just too tired to try and find it." She smirked at him mockingly.

He chuckled in response and slid his stool a tad closer to hers.

"I didn't mean it that way, lass." He explained.

She raises one eyebrow and levels him with a cool look. "Oh, really?" She asks sardonically. "And how _did_ you mean it?"

He tilts his head and predatorily smirks at her. "I only meant to compliment you on your beauty, love." He tells her swiftly. "However, it seems that now I must compliment you on your sharpness, as well. You're more than just a pretty face, aren't you?" He winks.

"Well, you'd know that, now, wouldn't you?" She responds coolly. "Since you'd been staring at me for quite some time before you decided to make your move." She adds, with an arched eyebrow and a pointed glance.

At that, he ducks his head in what appears to be shame and or embarrassment, and it's a moment before he looks to her again. When he does look to her again, the look on his face is so stricken and embarrassed (and adorable-god, he's adorable) that she almost wants to apologize for even bringing it up and buy him a drink herself.

Lord, what has gotten into her?

"Was it that obvious?" He asks with a sheepish grin. God.

"Apparently to everyone but me." She counters easily, a small grin hinted with the slightest brush of embarrassment crossing her face.

He laughs at that, then questions her, "What do you mean?"

She lets out an embarrassed laugh, and then decides to tell him just how she realized how long he'd been staring. "My friend Belle, um...she-ah, she told me. That you were staring. At me. For a while. I didn't actually notice it myself, really." She rambles on, blushing deeply.

He smiles at her, and quirks an eyebrow in amusement. "Hmm. So you don't regularly notice your admirers, then, do you?"

"Not really. And I had other things to think about, anyway."

"And what would that be?" He implores gently.

She gives him an amused glance. "Going home." She says simply.

"Already?" He says, feigning indignation. "It's hardly ten."

"Well, perhaps I have someone to go home to." She claims, and notices how his face falls slightly. Hmm.

"And do you?" He asks inquisitively, eyes boring into hers.

"Yes. Charlie." She answers painlessly, definitely noticing his interesting reaction to the mention of the male name. Then she laughs as she says, "My dog."

It's impossible not to notice the way his eyes regain their brightness, his face perks up again, and the bright grin that quickly adorns his face at her answer.

"Your dog?" He questions and she nods. He looks thoughtful for a moment, then continues. "I've always been a dog person myself. So, what breed is Charlie?"

She smiles and responds, "A dalmatian. Though, he's not too big."

He smiles at her and, suddenly bolder, she says, "You know, we've been talking for about fifteen minutes, yet you haven't told me your name."

He chuckles and responds teasingly, "So you'd like to be on a first name basis, then?" At her scowl, he adds, "Just teasing, love. It's Killian. My name, that is. Killian Jones."

His rambling does nothing to aid the attraction she feels toward him (and, by aid, she does mean stop). If anything, it strengthens it. Tenfold.

_Damn_.

"I'm Emma." She replies. "Emma Swan."

"Nice to meet you, Emma." He says, holding out his hand.

She takes it in hers, a spark of electricity passing through her palm, too apparent to ignore, and shakes it. "Nice to meet you, Killian."

He smiles.

They continue to talk for the next two hours, and during this, she learns a lot about Killian Jones, and, in turn, he learns a lot about her, which is not really how she'd considered her night going, but she's not one to complain. It's nice really. She learns that he's a lawyer in the field of admiralty and maritime law, and that he'd just transferred to her firm two months ago. He hails from London, and his brother (Liam) still lives there. In turn, he learns much more about her dog, Charlie, her field of family law, and more than one anecdote about previous company holiday parties.

He's surprisingly easy and fun company.

Wow.

(And all the while she notices Belle grinning and giving her a not-so tactful thumbs up. God.)

One pointed look at Ruby, however, and the drunken Australian is ushered off and hustled home. Thank gosh.

They're grinning at each other when the bartender calls for last call and it's only the that she notices that they appear to be the only two left in the bar (save for a few drunks-including Louis, oh wow). She checks her watch and shakes her head at the time. "God, I didn't realize it was so late." She exclaims.

"Neither did I, lass." He breathes in astonishment. "Well, can I walk you out?" He asks a bit bashful.

She smiles. "Sure."

He walks next to her in comfortable silence all the way to her apartment, and at the door, he stops and faces her.

"Well, this is me." She says.

"Aye." He breathes out, appearing to be at a loss for words. (Her too, but who's counting) "Um, look I know this might be a bit forward, considering we've just met and all but I've really liked talking to you tonight and I'd like to do this again, I mean, if you'd like to, and-"

She cuts off his rambling by pressing her lips to his insistently. He's frozen momentarily, but quickly gains his bearings, and reaches up to tangle his hand in her hair, pulling her closer to him.

It's over all too soon, but it is, after all quite late.

"So I take it that's a yes?" He asks with a grin, and they're still so very close to each other.

"Well, there's mistletoe." She answers innocently, pointing up.

He looks up and grins. "Should we do it again then? For tradition, of course."

She laughs. "Goodnight, Killian." And she unlocks the door and heads inside.

"Goodnight, Emma."

She hadn't given him her number but, well, he knows where to find her.

They work together after all.


End file.
